


Did you jingle my jangle? and How I learned to stop worrying that I did

by Imawriteritswhatido



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But in a Die Hard kind of way, Canon applied liberally and with care, Christmas, F/M, Just suggestive situations, no sex in this, plance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28379604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imawriteritswhatido/pseuds/Imawriteritswhatido
Summary: Christmas presents don't always come with bows. Sometimes they come with hangovers.
Relationships: Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 14
Kudos: 21





	Did you jingle my jangle? and How I learned to stop worrying that I did

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmazingBran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazingBran/gifts).



Pidge awoke to a horrible taste in her mouth. Not horrible as in gross, but rather just worse than your average run-of-the-mill-morning breath.

Christmas Eve had been last night, the first they’d had since the Official founding of Novaltea and Earth’s admittance into the Pan-Universe Coalition (formally the Voltron Alliance; people felt that the previous name conjured up associations with war) and most of the people in attendance had decided to live it up.

Strangely though, Pidge could not recall just what had happened at the party. She remembered there being a tree big enough for Time’s Square, the DJ had played a dance remix of the Die Hard Soundtrack, talking with Allura, someone named Faisal had asked her something, and lots and lots of eggnog.

After that, not much else really registered. The room wasn’t even her’s. It was just a plain jane Garrison dorm room that seemed to be unoccupied, if the lack of personal effects was anything to go on.

Whatever, she thought, better see what everyone else is doing this fine Christmas morning.

Pushing herself up on her elbows, Pidge stopped when she felt a weight on her lower abdomen, too heavy to be a pillow.

That…that can’t be. Couldn’t be. Shouldn’t be. Pidge had never so much as drank anything harder than beer in her life, how could this happen?

Pidge yanked back the sheets and her mind all but ground to a halt at the Santa hat-clad head, resting on her stomach.

I had a one night stand…?

The Santa hat shifted and it’s wearer rose up, wrapping his arms around her mid-section and burying his face in her chest. Pidge’s heart stopped the moment she saw her (midnight lover’s) face.

“Lance!?”

Lance muttered something in Spanish and cuddled into her.

Pidge huffed.

“Lance, wake up.”

Lance frowned in his sleep.

“No, mama, it’s Christmas.”

“I’m not your mama, Lance,” Pidge said, grabbing his nose and pulling, “now wake up!”

Lance awoke with a yelp, letting go of Pidge and sitting bolt upright across from her.

“Coño!”

He rubbed his nose.

“Why does my mouth taste like…?”

Lance froze and slowly turned towards Pidge.

“Pidge!?”

Lance’s grabbed the sheets hanging off the side of the bed and bundled them over his more private areas. Pidge rolled her eyes. Like she hadn’t seen a naked man before.

“You were expecting Bing Crosby?” she asked.

Lance grimaced.

“Ew, no. What are you doing in my bed?”

“This isn’t your bed,” Pidge said, waving a hand around, “it isn’t even one of our rooms. I think it’s an unoccupied dorm.”

Lance looked around and once he saw that she was right, did his best to keep his eyes off her naked body.

“So—um…was I…was I good?”

“Lance, I can’t remember a damn thing from last night. How can I tell you if you were good?”

“Oh…Ok.”

Lance’s face fell and Pidge wondered if that tightening sensation in her chest was her heart shrinking down two sizes.

“I’m sure you were fine Lance,” she said, “right now I’m just…wondering how this happened.”

“Well, you got me,” said Lance, “one minute, I’m on the dance floor, the next I’m talking to this guy named Faisal.”

“Yeah, I remember him too,” Pidge said, “on the tall side, cute hair…”

“His hair wasn’t that cute,” Lance muttered.

“Then…”

It came back to Pidge in a rush of Christmas colors and blurred images; Santa Baby playing in the background, Lance’s hands on her, the words ‘I know a room that isn’t locked’ against the shell of her ear.

“Lance, how much did we have to drink last night?”

Lance’s face scrunched up in concentration.

“Let’s see. There was the jaeger bomb, the wine at the dinner, there was that eggnog…”

His eyes widened and Pidge’s followed suit.

“Somebody spiked the Eggnog!”

The intercom in above the room’s doorway crackled to life.

“Will the Blue and Green Paladins of Voltron please report to the west wing conference room.

Pidge scrambled out of bed, nearly falling on her face in the process.

“Lance, help me find my phone!”

“Soon as I find my pants.”

“Where are my glasses?”

“Crap, somebody spilled fondue on my shirt!”

At fifteen minutes, Pidge and Lance stumbled into the west wing conference room looking half way decent. Impressive, by Pidge’s standards.

The man sitting at the head of the table, though, was an even bigger shock. 

“Morning,” the man at the table said, leafing through what looked like a file.

He was almost exactly the same as Pidge remembered from last night; the immaculate beard, the voice that belonged on Broadway, the aquiline nose to match the refined good looks. The only difference was the crisp Garrison uniform that signified the rank of Lieutenant Major.

“Hey, I know you!” Lance said, his eyes narrowing, “You’re that Faisal guy!”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Did you spike the eggnog?”

“Not on your life,” Faisal said, rising, “I was only there as my sister’s ride home.”

“Your sister?”

“Nadia,” Faisal said, rising.

Pidge felt her stomach drop. She remembered Rizavi, from the MFE pilots, talking with her about how her mother still didn’t trust her out past ten without her big brother.

“So…Major Rizavi,” Pidge said, hoping that Lance heard her tone, “any reason you called us here?”

“Only to let you know these photos will never see the light of day.”

Major Rizavi slid the file across the table towards Pidge and Lance, the latter grabbing and opening it. Lance’s cheeks immediately darkened.

“Wow.”

Pidge peered over her shoulder and felt her mind skid to a stop.

Photographs. Nothing but photographs of her and Lance, in flagrante delicto, filled the file. Not that she couldn’t appreciate Lance’s physique and the flexibility showcased within the pictures, but what kind of sicko takes pictures of people having sex without their knowledge.

Not only that, the angles of the photos all looked professional, and since none of the lights seemed to be on, it had to have been taken with something very high tech and very expensive.

Pidge looked up at the Major.

“Who took these?”

“We’re looking into that,” Major Rizavi replied, “for now, I suggest we be discreet. Documenting personal relations of this manner isn’t a good look for anyone. Least of all anyone associated with the Galaxy Garrison.”

“Well,” Lance said, “Problem solved. We’ve got the photos so nobody has to know.”

“They might have copies,” Pidge said.

The relief that had been on Lance’s melted away.

“And what’s worse,” the major said, rising, “there are rumblings of a cell phone video.”

Pidge’s heart stopped or at least that’s what it felt like.

“A cell phone video?”

Major Rizavi nodded, a look in his eyes like the one her mother had when Pidge’s pet tarantula, Peaches, had died.

If there was a video out there, of her and Lance, doing… anything like what they were doing in the photos…

“I’ll leave you two to discuss your options,” the major said, heading for the door, “I’ll let you know of any developments.”

“Who else knows about this,” Lance asked in a small voice.

“Captain Shirogane and I are the only Garrison members that have seen the photos,” the Major said, “some uniformed officers know, but we’re keeping them from looking at anything that's not pixelated. But I can’t keep the Holts in the dark forever. And Allah forbid the media get a hold of this.”

Pidge could see the news feeds now: Doin’ it Lion style! Our defenders of the universe.

“Anyway, I’ll talk to some of the representatives. Maybe one of them saw something.”

Lance had the grace to wait until the door had slid shut before he collapsed into one of the office chairs around the table, stupefaction all over his face.

“How could this happen?” he asked. Suddenly, his eyes went wide.

“Your brother’s gonna kill me!”

Pidge shook her head.

“Matt? No. My mom…?”

Lance moaned and buried his face in his hands.

“What’s my sister gonna say?”

“You’re not the one who might be pregnant.”

“Ay dios, I got you pregnant!”

Pidge rolled her eyes.

“Lance, it’s been less than a day. You can’t tell if you’re pregnant after one night.”

“Yeah, but…did we use…”

Lance made a couple of nebulous hand gestures.

“You know…a Santa sock?”

“Lance, I’m on the pill.”

“So was my Aunt Rosie, and that’s how I got twin cousins.”

“Lance, worrying about the fact that it happened isn’t going to change that it happened.”

Pidge took a seat to Lance’s left.

“The question is ‘what are we going to do about it?”

Neither paladin said anything. For five minutes that seemed like thirty, Pidge and Lance sat in silence, and Pidge wondered what was going through his mind.

“Did you…do you think it was a mistake?”

“What?”

Lance swallowed.

“What we did,” he said, looking into her eyes, “do you think it was a mistake?”

Pidge had never really had considered Lance deep. She could still recall the time he’d thought masticating had been something dirty. But now he was looking at her with tenderness that put electricity in her body and just…dammit, why was he giving her those puppy dog eyes.

“No,” she said, and she meant it. “It wasn’t a mistake, Lance.”

Pidge looked towards the file on the table.

“And if the pictures are anything to go on, I’d say we both enjoyed it.”

“Yeah,” Lance said, turning red and looking away shyly, “the pictures.”

The pictures indeed. While they didn’t know if the cell video rumors were true, the pictures were a sure thing. And as of now, those images could be rocketing around the internet and being made into the wallpaper of every dirty minded web surfer in the state.

Well, Pidge thought, getting out in front of it might be prudent.

“I think I might know some damage control we can do.” she said.

“You do?”

Lance was beaming at her now and the idea was starting to look more attractive by the minute.

“There’s an AVP movie marathon this weekend,” she said, “You seen any of em?”

Lance shrugged.

“Just the one Shane Black directed.”

“Wanna see the actually cool ones?”

Lance smiled.

“Sure. I’ll tell Hunk…”

“No. Not with Hunk. Just you and me.”

“Why wouldn’t Hunk come with—?”

Realization dawned in Lance’s eyes and he stared at Pidge with something short of surprise.

“Oh. Oh!”

“Pick me up at eight,” Pidge said, pushing herself up, “and wear a nice shirt.”

Pidge headed to the door, leaving Lance looking lovestruck where he sat. It really wasn’t a bad idea. Let the tabloids talk. If the date didn’t work out, then they could say they were no longer dating. But if it did work out…

Against her better judgement, Pidge dashed back to where Lance was sitting and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before running back through the doorway and out of the conference room.

Why did I kiss his cheek, she thought as the door slid shut behind her.

You know why.

Suddenly, Pidge’s phone pinged, alerting her of a text message. The screen said it was from Hunk.

Just wanted to let you know I think you’re a cute couple, the text read followed a sweat drop emoji.

Pidge smirked.

Yeah, she typed, we really are.

**Author's Note:**

> Update: this work got me into trouble. I slave through the night to make it work and it gets me into trouble. Now, the person who I thought was a friend has given me the boot and honestly, good riddence to that fair weather puritan. I'm honestly thinking about deleting this work, all because it just reminds me of one more mistake I've made about trusting someone in a fandom.


End file.
